


Click, Flash!

by Idreamt_once



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series, NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Eventual Smut, Johnny is a mob boss, M/M, Please Don't Kill Me, Smut, Taeyong is a smol boi, There's A Tag For That, Wow, eventually, watch the warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:46:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23638543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idreamt_once/pseuds/Idreamt_once
Summary: "Perverted old man""There are better ways to use that mouth than to call me names, you know""Bastard!"-or-In which Taeyong is an investigative journalist and Johnny may or may not be the kingpin of Seoul's underground.Based on the Finder Series by Yamane Ayano
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 9
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't claim anything! I am just a smol child, please. :)
> 
> I know I literally have 8000000 other things to write but I somehow let my finger slip so here goes!

Taeyong snapped another picture. He could almost taste the victory on his tongue. There was no way that pesky Sehun was going to steal this! The drug deal he’d captured would certainly make the news tomorrow. Not only were his pictures crystal clear, the deal involved a well-known actress. Taeyong grinned to himself.  
He gathered his camera and set off. It was nearing midnight, meaning that if he rushed home and processed his photos, he could still make the morning edition of the magazine. Thinking of the fat paycheck, Taeyong ran home.  
By the time he was finished, the photos sent off, it was almost one in the morning. Taeyong sat back in his chair. Being an investigative journalist was not an easy job, but Taeyong loved it. Sure, it had its ups and downs, especially when Sehun, a fellow co-worker at Seoul Speaks, stole his scoops. Stretching, he padded from his desk to the bathroom, ready to finally get some sleep.

_BRRRRIIIIINGGGGGGGGGG!_

“Shit!” Taeyong yelled at himself. He was about to be late to work. Again. He grabbed the jeans and shirt he wore yesterday, not caring that they were grass stained and slightly rumpled. He grabbed his camera and raced towards the subway.

\--

Johnny nodded along as Jaehyun read him the stock information for the morning. He pulled out his gun from the drawer beside his desk and placed it on the towel. Jaehyun, ever the loyal secretary, passed Johnny a cleaning cloth as he continued to read the numbers. Slowly but expertly, Johnny took apart his Beretta and cleaned it, before reloading it and placing it back into the drawer.  
“Jaehyun, inform Nakamoto that if he wishes to keep all ten of his fingers, he better have an explanation for the losses at YumSushi,” Johnny paused, “actually, inform him that if he wishes to keep his little lover safe--what was his name again? Sicheng? Right. Inform him that if he wishes to keep little Sicheng safe, he better have an explanation.”  
“Yessir,” Jaehyun nodded, too used to his boss’s cold tone. Johnny waved his hand, dismissing Jaehyun. He bowed politely before leaving the office.  
“He’s not in a good mood today, is he?” Taeil asked when Jaehyun left. Jaehyun sighed.  
“Yuta’s in trouble,” Jaehyun said. Taeil raised an eyebrow.  
“Yuta? What did he do?” Taeil asked as he and the secretary made their way down the hall towards their respective offices.  
“Profits slipped,” Jaehyun said, “shouldn’t be too big of a hassle.”  
“He’s only picking on Nakamoto because he’s in a bad mood,” Taeil guessed.  
“Probably,” Jaehyun agreed with his partner. Taeil was Johnny’s secretary long before Jaehyun joined. The older man may have switched to Chief of Management, but Jaehyun knew that Taeil still knew Johnny like the back of his hand.  
Jaehyun had a perfect view of Seoul from his office. From the thirty-second floor of the Sion Tower, the people below were like little ants, milling about. He supposes that ants was a good analogy. After all, it was Suh Johnny that controlled Seoul. Everyone else was as insignificant as an ant. What Johnny wanted, he got. In the eyes of the public, Suh Johnny was the epitome of success. A wealthy, young businessman, he consistently appeared in the gossip magazine’s “Top Bachelors of Seoul”.  
But what the public didn’t know was that Johnny made most of his money through the underground. Call it what you may, but there was no doubt in Jaehyun’s mind that, if he so desired, Johnny could own all of Seoul. He did, in a sense. He made yearly donations to hospitals, to schools, to the police force, anywhere imaginable. Not to mention he owned clubs and restaurants and chains of luxury stores, most notably Club Sion. The thirty-two floor building was intimidating; steel and black glass that reflected the sunlight so harshly that one couldn’t start at the building for too long. The club itself was the bottom three floors, headquarters were the remaining twenty-nine.  
Jaehyun decided to start with the easy task. Picking up his phone, he dialed Yuta’s number.  
“Hello?”  
“Yuta, you better have your excuses in order,” Jaehyun warned, straight to the point.  
“Fuck,” Yuta’s soft curse was followed by a brief period of silence.  
“Well?” Jaehyun asked.  
“Honestly, I had to spend two days cleaning up after the last fiasco. Cost me three days in profits,” Yuta said.  
“Fair,” Jaehyun said, “especially since Johnny caused the fiasco.”  
“Do you have any idea how fucking difficult blood is?” Yuta asked, “like, sure, I’m a chef, I deal with that on the daily. But. Human blood? What the fuck?”  
“Believe me,” Jaehyun snorted, “I sure do.”

\--

Taeyong bag felt twenty pounds heavier. His bonus sat at the bottom of the bag, along with a copy of Seoul Speaks published that morning. There, right on the front page, was the picture he’d snapped last night of the drug deal. He stopped by the store to buy food, deciding that surviving off of ramen wasn’t an option anymore. Stashing up on food, a box of pink hair dye caught his eye at the register. Taeyong pondered for a moment. Heck, this was his bonus, so he grabbed the box anyway.  
Unlocking the door to his small apartment, Taeyong dumped the groceries in the kitchen, heading to the bathroom to dye his hair first. He frowned at the dark roots, wishing he’d bought bleach to fix up his currently blonde hair. But he didn’t have enough money for dye and bleach, so he’d just have to make do.  
In the middle of making dinner, Taeyong’s phone went off.  
“Taeyong!” Junmyeon, his editor, greeted cheerily.  
“Hey,” Taeyong said, scooping the rice into a bowl, “what’s up?”  
“I’ve got an assignment for you,” Junmyeon said, “Sources tell me that a certain politician is meeting up with a woman, probably his mistress, at Club Sion tonight. Do you want this scoop? Sehun’s also available, but…”  
“Of course!” Taeyong said. There was no way he was going to let Sehun steal another one of his scoops! Especially as fresh a story as this one!  
“Great!” Junmyeon said, “you might need to start lining up now, though. Club Sion is ridiculously popular. Also ridiculously expensive, so I suggest you dress well. One in the morning is the time. You know this guy, the transportation minister?”  
“Yeah, I know what he looks like,” Taeyong said, nodding. Junmyeon gave him a few more details, before hanging up. Taeyong glanced wistfully at the rice and beef he’d just made. Oh well, he could just reheat the food when he got back, right?

Taeyong immediately knew he was out of place. _Rich old geezers,_ he thought. Indeed, the club was high-end, all of its patrons in custom designer suits, the ladies carrying handbags worth more than his entire apartment. Taeyong picked a seat in the corner, hiding away from the people, yet keeping an eye out. Sure enough, with ten minutes to midnight, a man that looked suspiciously like the transportation minister walked towards the upper floors of the club, where the private rooms were. Taeyong followed, under the guise of using the restroom. He purposely bumped shoulders with the woman, bowing and mumbling apologies as he clicked the button in his pocket. The camera in his sleeve made an almost inaudible series of clicks. Grinning to himself, Taeyong walked away.

\--

From the balcony, Johnny watched the pink-haired boy bowing. Just as the mob boss was about to turn his attention elsewhere, a small glint in the sleeve of the boy’s jacket caught his eye.  
“Jaehyun,” Johnny said, waving his secretary over, “who is he?” Johnny asked, pointing at the pink-haired man.  
“I have no idea,” Jaehyun said, “he must be a first-timer.”  
“Judging by his clothes,” Johnny said, “he doesn’t belong here.” Beside him, Jaehyun squinted through the one-way glass.  
“Indeed,” Jaehyun said. Johnny watched as the head of pink hair traveled towards one of the doors. Glancing at the clock, Johnny knew his suspicions were confirmed. Very few left a club at midnight, unless they had other intentions.  
“He’s leaving through the back door,” Johnny said, “bring him up to my office.”  
“Are you sure, sir?” Jaehyun asked. Johnny nodded, before making his way out. Jaehyun nodded.  
“Can Chittaphon and Jungwoo go to the back alley and grab the man with pink hair?” Jaehyun said into the walkie-talkie, “the boss wants to see him.”  
“Got it,” Jungwoo’s voice crackled through the walkie.  
“Fuck you, Jung,” came the other voice, “I told you to call me Ten.”  
“Same to you, Leechiapornkul,” Jaehyun said smoothly.

\--

Taeyong shouldn’t have gotten too excited about his success. Maybe then he would have noticed the two people tailing him. But they’d grabbed his arms and dragged him, screaming and yelling, into an elevator. With one button. 32. _What kind of fucking useless elevator has one button?_ Taeyong thought as he tried to fight off one of his attackers.  
When the doors opened, they dragged him towards a door on the far end of the hallway. Taeyong glanced over his shoulder, taking in his surroundings. There was an emergency stairwell at the other end. _Perfect,_ he thought.  
“Boss, is this the guy you wanted to see?” one of his captors asked when they’d stopped. Taeyong glanced up. And promptly forgot to breathe. Sitting behind the desk was the most attractive man he’d ever seen. Holy shit. Taeyong’s gay-dar was going off like crazy. The dark hair and the custom-cut three-piece suit accentuated the man’s sheer height. Shit, he had to be at least 6’2”. Taeyong glared, captivated but angry, as the man rounded the desk.  
“Yes, you may leave now,” the man said. That voice, shit. The guards that held his arms released him and left the office.  
“What do you want?” Taeyong asked, folding his arms across his chest.  
“Give me the camera,” the man said, holding out his hand. Taeyong took a step backwards.  
“W-what camera?” Taeyong asked. He cursed himself for stuttering.  
“I know you took a picture tonight, sweetheart,” the man said, taking a step closer, “give me the camera.”  
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Taeyong said, taking another step back. His back hit something. Taeyong glanced at it. This bookshelf was not here two seconds ago. _What the fuck?_  
“We could do this the nice way,” the man said, “or we could do this the dirty way. Your pick.”  
“What?” Taeyong asked. The man in front of him took another step forward, until he was inches from Taeyong. He hated that he had to look up to meet the man’s eyes, making him feel small.  
“You have two choices,” the man said. His cologne was getting to Taeyong’s head. Rich geezer, Taeyong thought.  
“You can either give me the camera and walk out of here. Or you can refuse and not walk out of here. Either way, I’d have the camera,”  
“Fuck you,” Taeyong muttered, unclipping his Pentax from his sleeve, “this one’s my last good spy cam.” The man held out his hand expectantly. Taeyong shoved his camera into his hand roughly, before looking away. He couldn’t bear to watch his precious camera in the hands of another.  
“Lovely,” the man rumbled, taking a step back, “you may leave.” Taeyong took a breath of fresh air, removing the scent of the man’s cologne from his lungs, and bolted. He was already on the stairs when he heard the order.  
“Catch him!”  
_Guess he found out I took out the memory disk._ Taeyong thought. He shoved open the door at the end of the stairs. Cold wind whipped his hair. Taeyong’s world froze.  
“There’s nowhere to run,” a familiar voice, flanked by his minions. Taeyong turned, facing the man from the office.  
“Caught like a rat in a trap,” the man smirked. Taeyong glanced down at the street, thirty-two stories below him.  
“Ha, I’ve been in worse situations than being chased by a bunch of rich geezers,” Taeyong laughed. He put one hand on the railing and swung himself over the edge.

\--

Johnny ran to the edge of the roof. The pink haired boy was clinging onto the outcropping of an adjacent building. The boy looked up, catching the mob boss’s eyes. He stuck out his tongue, before climbing across, out of Johnny’s sight.  
“Sir, what are your next orders?” Jaehyun asked. Johnny huffed a laugh.  
“I didn’t think he had it in him,” Johnny said, “nothing. He’ll come back out of curiosity.”

\--

“Taeyong, you’re stupid,” Sicheng said, as he wrapped the cut on Taeyong’s palm.  
“I know,” Taeyong said, wincing when Sicheng tightened the bandage.  
“I know you’re pretty fit, but, still,” Sicheng said, “jumping off of buildings is not a good idea.”  
“Yeah, okay, whatever,” Taeyong said to his friend. Sicheng finished and moved to clean up the area.  
“Speaking of,” Sicheng said, his voice now completely playful, “which building did you climb for this scoop?”  
“I didn’t actually climb it,” Taeyong said, “but it was Club Sion.” Sicheng barely managed to retain his hold on the first aid kit.  
“You what?” Sicheng whispered. Taeyong didn’t know why Sion elicited such a reaction from his friend.  
“Yeah, it was just some shady stuff,” Taeyong said, shrugging. Sicheng took a deep breath.  
“Dude, you know who owns Sion?” Sicheng asked. Taeyong shook his head.  
“The king of Seoul,” Sicheng said quietly, as if he was speaking Voldemort’s name, “Suh Youngho.”  
“Who?” Taeyong asked. He had no idea who this guy was.  
“Oh my god. Suh Johnny?” Sicheng said, waving his arms, “the owner of Sion? Top donor to NCity Hospital? Major stockholder of NeoCul Technology?”  
“What?” Taeyong asked. He’d never heard of any of these companies. Sicheng took a deep breath in.  
“Voted ‘Most Eligible Bachelor’ by magazines for six years in a row?” Sicheng tried one last time. A pause. Taeyong gasped.  
“Him?” Taeyong asked in disbelief. Holy shit.  
“I can’t believe that was the only piece of information you recognized,” Sicheng facepalmed. Taeyong put his hands up in mock surrender.  
“Sorry,” Taeyong said, “but who is this guy?” Sicheng glanced around the restaurant. Having deemed it safe, he gestured for Taeyong to come closer. Sicheng put his hand beside Taeyong's ear.  
“It’s rumored that Suh Johnny is the kingpin of the Seoul mafia,” Sicheng whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When there's only a few more weeks of high school  
> but your teachers decide NOW is the time to give you a 12-page paper on a book you didn't read  
> ok i was supposed to read it  
> but  
> who's actually doing homework in quarentine??  
> not this btch  
> :)

After the stunt a week ago, Taeyong thought he knew everything possible about Johnny Suh. He compiled everything into a PowerPoint presentation for Sicheng, complete with photos he’d taken from a stakeout on the businessman. 

“You’re obsessed,” Sicheng said, curling into Taeyong’s worn-down sofa, “you just gave me a forty-five minute presentation on this guy.”

“Ok, but there’s so much mystery there too,” Taeyong said, returning to the sixty-sixth slide, “you see this? What could he be carrying in his pocket that is that big?”

“His dick,” Sicheng snickered. Taeyong slapped his friend’s arm. 

“Stop that! I’m serious!” Taeyong screeched. But he couldn’t deny that his first thought was exactly Sicheng’s.  _ Damn, that man must be packing down there.  _ Taeyong thought.  _ Ah, Fuck! Why am I thinking about his dick?! _

“Aww, Taeyongie,” Sicheng cooed, “blushing at the thought of a rich man’s dick.”

“Sicheng!”

“You need to get laid, my friend,” Sicheng cackled. 

\--

“Sir, you’re aware that the boy is following you, right?” Jaehyun asked as soon as Johnny got into his limo. 

“Of course,” Johnny said, not glancing up from his phone, “I told you, he’s curious.”

“Speaking of,” Jaehyun said, handing Johnny a file from the briefcase, “here’s all the information I could find on the boy.” At this, Johnny glanced up from his phone and took the file. The boy wasn’t a boy at all.  _ Lee Taeyong _ , 25,  _ Investigative photographer, works for Seoul Speaks _ . Attached was a photo of Taeyong, pink hair and all, and his address, his parents’ names, his identification number, bank accounts, and recent purchases. All fairly typical of a young man. Except for the bank account. The poor kid was barely hanging on. Johnny didn’t know why, but he felt compelled to help Lee Taeyong out a little. 

“Jaehyun,” Johnny said. The secretary pushed his glasses up a little, “can you do me a favor?”

\--

Junmyeon thought that the man looked suspicious. No, not looked. He definitely was suspicious. Most sources and tip-offs came in the form of an anonymous email or phone call. Never in person. Granted, the man was wearing sunglasses and a three-piece suit. He reminded Junmyeon of the actors from Men in Black. 

“Are you sure it is safe?” Junmyeon questioned. He may be the manager, but he prioritized the safety of his photographers above all.

“Of course,” Mystery Man said. He handed Junmyeon a black backpack, “Inside is a waiter’s uniform. I hope your photographers are smart enough to know what to do.”

“Of course,” Junmyeon said, accepting the backpack cautiously. Mystery Man nodded, before turning on his heel and leaving. Junmyeon checked the contents of the bag, noting the size of the uniform, before picking up the phone and dialing. 

“Hello? Junmyeon?” Taeyong’s voice seemed surprised.

“Taeyong,” Junmyeon said, “I have another assignment for you.” 

Twenty minutes later, Taeyong was bouncing into the office of  _ Seoul Speaks,  _ excitement palpable. For the first time, Taeyong might have beef for two weeks in a row! He made a beeline for Junmyeon’s office, eager to earn his beef. Maybe he’d spice it up and buy some pork belly, too.

“You got this for me?” Taeyong asked, digging through the bag Junmyeon handed him. 

“Yeah, it’s at Sion again,” Junmyeon said, “it’s the celebration that Club Sion is holding tonight.”

“Club S-sion?” Taeyong asked. Junmyeon noticed his hesitation. 

“Yes, is everything alright?” Junmyeon asked, concerned. Taeyong quickly shook his head. 

“Oh, it’s all good!” Taeyong said, a little too quickly, “what’s the assignment?” 

“I want you to get pictures of Johnny Suh,” Junmyeon said, “my source tells me no press is allowed within the building, and since Johnny Suh won’t be stepping out, the only way to get pictures…”

“Is to go in the building,” Taeyong said, eyes lighting up, “consider it done, captain!” Taeyong smiled at him, grabbed the backpack, and was gone. Junmyeon sighed, rubbing his eyes. Something didn’t feel right, but since he couldn’t pin down what felt off, Junmyeon decided to let the events play out. 

Taeyong was instantly suspicious. The waiter’s uniform that was in the bag was an almost perfect fit on him. The pants were just the right length. He checked himself in the mirror in his apartment.  _ Damn, I look good, _ Taeyong thought. He made a mental note to keep the pants, seeing as they were somewhat formal looking clothes. When he moved to grab the shirt, something tumbled out of it and onto the sofa. Taeyong squinted at it, before reeling back. There was no way it was a coincidence. With shaking hands, he clipped his Pentax, now with a new memory card, into the sleeve of the uniform, trailed the wire under his shirt and into the pants pocket. He pulled the sleeve right up to his hands, concealing the camera perfectly. Taeyong pulled on the black vest and checked the pockets, daring to expect something else. Sure enough, there was a sleek, black card with silver engraving on one side.  _ Club Sion. _

Taeyong knew Johnny was behind this. There was no way someone could have gotten a waiter’s uniform  _ in his size,  _ a Club Sion access card, and  _ Taeyong’s  _ Pentax camera. He narrowed his eyes, thinking. What could Johnny possibly want from him? 

Getting into Sion was easy, with the access card in his pocket. As soon as Taeyong stepped into the kitchen, a tray with glasses of champagne was placed into his hands and he was shoved towards the dining room. 

Taeyong’s jaw dropped as soon as the kitchen doors closed behind him.  _ Holy fuck.  _ The hall was absolutely gorgeous. The entire club had been redesigned. Gone were the booths and the tables. Instead, long dining tables that were draped with white tablecloths. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. A live orchestra played where the DJ table used to be. The two things that remained, Taeyong noted, was the dance floor and the bar. Taking a deep breath, Taeyong put on his best smiling face, banished the thought  _ rich geezers  _ to the back of his brain, and started walking around. 

\--

“The VIP is here,” Jaehyun said quietly to Johnny as they walked around, greeting the guests. Johnny nodded imperceptibly. 

“Keep an eye on him,” Johnny whispered. Jaehyun nodded. 

\--

“I’ll have a glass,” a woman said. Taeyong carefully spun around, allowing the lady to pick a glass of champagne. Taeyong simply nodded at her, not trusting himself to speak. When the lady turned back to her friends, Taeyong continued. 

“I’ll take one,” a male voice said. 

“Yes, sir. Please help yourself,” Taeyong said quietly. He glanced up at the man, drawing a sharp breath. 

“J-Johnny?” Taeyong whispered in disbelief. Johnny only raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Aren’t you here for your pictures?” Johnny asked. Taeyong stiffened. 

“Well?” Johnny asked. Taeyong reached his hand into his pocket, clicked it twice and nodded. 

“Thanks,” Taeyong said, before scampering away. 

When his tray was empty, Taeyong returned to the kitchen, intending to grab another tray and go back. 

“Hey! Can you take the trash out?” the head chef called out, gesturing to the big plastic bags. Taeyong turned. 

“Y-yeah, of course!” Taeyong said, picking them up. Hoping that the dumpsters were in the alleyway, he picked them up and walked out, rounding the corner. 

_ BAM! _

“Ow!” Taeyong gasped as he was thrown backwards. The man who had crashed into him hurriedly stood up. 

“You work at Sion?” the man asked, panting. 

“N--Yeah,” Taeyong stuttered. The man nodded, handing Taeyong a crumpled envelope. 

“Please, make sure Mr. Suh gets this,” the man said, before taking off again. Taeyong stood up hurriedly. 

“Hey!” Taeyong yelled out after him. The man ran out from the alley and darted to the road. 

“Watch out!” Taeyong screamed. But it was too late, the car had hit the man with a sickening crunch. Glass from the headlights exploded, the car screeching to a stop. Taeyong stood, frozen, watching the pool of dark blood growing from beneath the car…

“Move,” a soft voice said, pulling his arm. Taeyong stumbled back, colliding with a man in a black suit. 

“You never saw anything,” the man said, “you won’t speak of this to anyone, understood?” 

“Yes,” Taeyong gasped out. In his shock, he didn’t know what else to say. Distantly, he heard the sound of a siren approaching.

“If anyone gives you trouble, the name’s Jungwoo,” the man said, before disappearing into Sion. Taeyong gave himself a minute to collect himself, before walking back to the trash bags he’d dropped and threw them in the dumpster. 

Taeyong took the late night bus home, still in shock over what had happened. When he finally arrived at his apartment, he forced himself to break down the situation. 

“I went to Sion to get pictures,” Taeyong said. Immediately, he checked his sleeve. He hadn’t thought to check his camera for damage after the man collided with him. Luckily, the camera was still there, having slid down a little into his sleeve. 

“And then I went to take out the trash,” Taeyong said to himself, “then the man came running. Crashed into me, gave me an envelope.” Taeyong pulled the crumpled envelope from the uniform pocket. Curious, he opened it. A single black flashdrive sat in the corner. 

“Give this to Johnny Suh,” Taeyong echoed, “fuck, its never a good thing when Johnny Suh is involved.”

\--

Johnny Suh was not pleased. Jaehyun thought that he could cut the tension in the air with a knife. He had gone to the hospital to pay Jiho a visit, only to come up empty handed. The information Johnny sought was out there; he just had to hope it didn’t fall into the wrong hands. 

“Sir, Doctor Kun wants to speak to you,” Jaehyun said, glancing up from his tablet. Johnny nodded. 

“Connect the call,” Johnny said. The tablet rang, before a kind-faced doctor appeared on the screen. 

“Youngho!” the doctor greeted cheerfully. Jaehyun tensed. Very few people dared to use the boss’s real name. Johnny paid it no mind. 

“Kun, you wanted to speak with me?” Johnny asked, voice cold. Kun sighed. 

“I’ve known you for thirty years,” Kun said, “you’re still the same.”

“Let’s get down to business,” Johnny said. 

“Very well,” Kun said, “my patient today, a victim of a car accident, mentioned something about a hotel employee.” Johnny sat up. 

“He said he gave ‘it’ to a hotel employee,” Kun repeated, “I assume you know what I mean by victim.”

“Yes,” Johnny said. Kun shrugged.

“Alright then, good night,” Kun said, “or, rather, good morning.”

“Farewell, Doctor,” Jaehyun said, pressing the end call button. Jaehyun glanced at his boss as Johnny sat back in his big leather chair. 

“Hotel employee, huh?” Johnny said, “Jaehyun, gather all the staff that was present last night. Question them all. Leave no one out.”

“Yessir,” Jaehyun said, and left the room. 

Three hours later, all the club staff questioned, Jaehyun still had no clues. As he trudged down the hallway from the elevator, ready to deliver his failure, he thought of something. Quickly knocking on Johnny’s office door, Jaehyun walked in. 

“Sir, none of the staff know of Jiho,” Jaehyun said. Johnny didn’t react. 

“Is everyone accounted for?” Johnny asked. He couldn’t help but think he was forgetting something. 

“No,” Jaehyun said. Johnny met his eyes. A brief silence was exchanged between the men, before they drew the same conclusion at the same time. 

“Lee Taeyong.”

\--

Taeyong walked with a spring in his step as he left Junmyeon’s office. The photos of Johnny Suh were perfect. Junmyeon had praised his skills, which made Taeyong blush. He  _ technically _ had Johnny’s help. Johnny  _ let _ him take the photos. He stood still as Taeyong took them. Still, Taeyong was rewarded with a fat paycheck, which he accepted warily. 

As Taeyong walked towards his apartment, he couldn’t help but feel as though he didn’t deserve the money in his bank account right now. He hadn’t earned the money, he knew. He could not have done it without Johnny’s help. He felt a little guilty about it, watching his bank account tick up. But, at the same time, it helped that Taeyong had at least enough money to last a full week now, instead of paycheck to paycheck. 

He arrived at his apartment, put away his cameras carefully, and grabbed the black flash drive. He decided that he was going to give it to Johnny Suh. As much as he didn’t want to see the man again he still felt it his duty. 

Taeyong gulped. Club Sion in the daytime was a scary building. Never had he thought that a building could be imposing, but Club Sion definitely was. Taeyong approached the front door. 

“Hi, um, I’m here to give your boss a message?” Taeyong said to the bodyguards outside the glass door. Neither of them glanced at him.

“Hello?” Taeyong asked again. He waved his hand in front of their faces. Again, neither bodyguard reacted.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Taeyong groaned, “Hey! I need to see your boss!” He stood there, waiting. 

“Should we dispose of the kid?” one of the bodyguards said to the other. Taeyong jumped at the sound of his voice. Taeyong took a step back.

“Huh?”

“One more word, and we are disposing of you,” the bodyguard said. Taeyong huffed.

“Fuck off, I need to see--HEY!” Taeyong yelled as he was picked up by the scruff of his jacket. He was carried, kicking and screaming, to the edge of the stairs, where he was unceremoniously tossed. Taeyong yelped as he landed on his knees, sure bruises would start blooming right away. 

“Fine,” Taeyong said dejectedly, “I’ll leave.” Taeyong picked himself up, brushed off the dust from his jeans, noting the growing bloodstain on his knees, and walked home. 

\--

“It’s not here,” Ten said. They’d turned the poor boy’s apartment upside down, looking for the flashdrive. Yet, they turned up with nothing, except for the black access card.

“Maybe it’s on his person,” Jaehyun said. Johnny took a deep breath. 

“Take every single one of the boy’s cameras,” Johnny said, “and leave the key in their stead. He will come to me soon enough.” Jungwoo nodded, prepared to carry out the boss’s orders. 

“Um, sir,” Ten said cautiously, “this is just an observation, but there is absolutely no food in this apartment.” 

“Hmm,” Johnny said, “interesting.” 

“Sir, the task is complete,” Jungwoo said, carrying a box out of Taeyong’s bedroom. Johnny glanced at it, before turning to Jaehyun. 

“Jaehyun, leave some cash on the boy’s kitchen table,” Johnny said, “I want him to have enough energy to answer my questions later.” 

\--

Taeyong knew something wasn’t right as soon as he approached his apartment door. He always meticulously locked the door behind him. Now, the door was open just a crack. Carefully, Taeyong pushed open the door, which let out a loud squeak of protest. Taeyong’s eyes found the mess in his apartment. 

“No,” Taeyong gasped. Had he been robbed? He threw down the bag he was carrying and ran to his bedroom. 

“My cameras,” Taeyong whimpered. Instead of the six cameras, there was a single key and a familiar black card. Taeyong picked it up, reading the tag attached.  _ Sion. _

“Fuck you, Johnny Suh!” Taeyong screamed. 

Taeyong spent the rest of the day restoring order to his apartment. There wasn’t much to do, considering his meager belongings. He realized that nothing was stolen, besides his cameras.  _ This is his way of forcing me out,  _ Taeyong realized. When he got to the kitchen, a white envelope on the table gleamed under the lights. He picked it up, inspecting the contents. Money. Taeyong threw the envelope back on the table. 

“How dare you!” Taeyong hissed at the envelope, “how dare you assume I’d come to you because of money!” Growling, Taeyong ignored the pain in his knees and stood up, walking to his backpack. Once again, he set out for Sion, flashdrive, key, and envelope in his backpack. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sicheng: he a big dude!  
> Taeyong: ok and?
> 
> twitter: @idreamt_once


End file.
